


the last star of mo(u)rning

by Lies_Unfurl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Castiel in the Bunker, Coda, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Episode: s13e19 Funeralia, Heaven, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Protective Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 02:16:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14392131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lies_Unfurl/pseuds/Lies_Unfurl
Summary: Post 13.19: Dean and Cas talk about Billie's prophecy and about Heaven, while leaving the most important subjects untouched.





	the last star of mo(u)rning

“Cat got your tongue?” Dean asks, tossing Cas a beer and slipping into the chair across from him.

Cas catches the can just in time, not looking up from the book he’s been buried in for at least an hour, since he healed up him and Sam. Dean kinda wants to sleep, but he’s mostly just happy to be home, since Sam's insistence that they stop at a motel to get patched up had cost them a good twelve hours.

“We should get a cat,” Cas murmurs, setting the beer on the table and not looking up from the book. “At least a cat would talk to me.”

That came out of nowhere. “What?”

Cas looks up just long enough to glare angel blades at him, then goes back to his book.

Dean kicks him under the table. “Why’re you in such a shitty mood?”

“I don’t know,” Cas snaps. “Why did Sam have to be the one to tell me that you’re going to die soon?”

Oh.

“Billie didn’t say she was killing me. Just that we’d be seeing each other.” He shrugs. It had been unsettling, but it’s not the first ominous statement that a being with cosmic powers has thrown his way.

“She’s _Death_. She can only see ahead so far as _death_ is concerned. She wouldn’t know she’d be seeing you if you weren’t about to die. You tell me not to 'get dead'” and the air quotes aren't even funny this time, "but you can't follow your own advice!"

Dean reaches across the table and shuts Cas’s book. “Hey. Lookit me.”

When Cas finally does, something is glittering in his eyes. Dean refuses to think about that.

“I technically ‘died’ the last time I saw Billie. Didn’t stay dead, did I? It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t – of course it means something, Dean!” His fingernails dig into the top of the table, deep enough that it’d probably be pretty painful, if he could feel it. “It means I won’t be able to protect you! My family will die, again, and it’ll be my fault, again, and–”

“Hey!” Cas’s hands feel cold and rough, and they don’t relax at all at his touch. “Even if I do die, which I won’t, it wouldn’t be your fault. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. Okay?”

Cas stares down where his hands are covered by Dean’s, and doesn’t say anything.

“Okay?”

Cas shakes his head, mute. He pulls his hands out from under Dean’s and covers his eyes, leaning forward so he’s balancing on his elbows, head in hands.

“Hey. Cas, buddy, what’s wrong?” He stands up, the taste of beer sour in his mouth, and walks behind his friend, laying his hands on trembling shoulders. 

“Is this about what happened in Heaven?” Which Cas hasn’t talked about, just saying that the other angels won’t help. “Cas, you know they’re a bunch of dicks. Whatever they said, it wasn’t true.”

“There are twelve of us left. Maybe less.”

“Huh?” His grip on Cas’s shoulders tightens. “What’re you talking about?”

“Angels. There are twelve, eleven of us left in all of Creation. Lucifer included. There could be others hiding, but – they wouldn’t. They would have felt Heaven’s need before now. They would have returned. The rest are dead.”

“…holy shit.”

“Heaven is… …is failing. It needs angels to run. There are eight up there; it’s not enough. When they weaken, which they will, all the souls in Heaven will come crashing down to Earth. It’ll be complete chaos, everyone who has ever been worthy tossed out of Paradise, confused and upset. And it’ll be my fault.”

“Hey.” Cas has said too much for Dean to process, but he hears that last sentence loud and clear. “None of this is your fault. We’ll find a way to fix it. Like we always do.“

“We can’t. We can’t make more angels. All my siblings, Dean, I knew all of their names; we fought together for most of Time; I killed over a hundred of them while with the Leviathans alone. I can’t even remember how many, or who, I killed.”

Cas’s voice breaks on the last sentence. The angle’s shitty, with him standing and Cas in the chair, but he wraps an arm around Cas all the same. Pressed against him like this, he can feel how Cas’s chest shakes with aborted sobs, with keeping in the sound of his crying.

“I’m sorry. I… I can’t imagine, Cas. I know you weren’t always close to them, but. Family’s family.”

Cas nods, not taking his head from his hands.

“That doesn’t make it your fault. It’s not. You only ever killed when you had to, or when someone else was controlling you. And you’ve always tried to help Heaven. Don’t blame yourself.”

Cas doesn’t respond, so Dean tries a different tactic. “Hey. You know we could use you here, fighting against the freaks from that other world. But if you want to go to Heaven. Work with them, I mean. Help them. We’d understand.”

“I don’t,” Cas says, almost before Dean has finished his last sentence. “I can’t. Not after what she did to me.”

“What? Who?”

Cas stiffens. Dean reluctantly lets go of him, giving him some space.

“Naomi,” Cas finally says. “Metatron didn’t kill her, as I’d believed.”

“Naomi? The bitch who tortured you?” Cas has never talked at length about her, but Dean can still remember the haunted, horrified look in his eyes in the split second down in the crypts between when Cas was beating him and when he healed him. “Fuck, I’ll kill her myself.”

“You can’t. There are eight angels in Heaven, and she’s one of them. If she died, that might be enough to upset the balance. And I should be up there, supporting Heaven, but I can’t, not if it means working with her.” There’s an edge of panic ( _trauma_ , something in his mind whispers) in Cas's tone, and Dean knows he’s being deadly serious.

“You don’t have to. I wouldn’t even had suggested it, if I’d known. And like I said, having you on our side is great." He swallows down what he actually wants to say and adds, "We need you.”

If that is, perhaps, an incomplete version of the truth, of why he doesn’t want Cas flitting back from Heaven, leaving them, leaving him – well, it doesn’t much matter.

Cas sits up straight. Dean chances to peer down at him; his eyes are red and watery, but he isn’t actively crying. Which, good. He doesn’t know if he could take actually seeing Cas cry.

“We’ll figure something out,” he says firmly, clapping Castiel’s shoulder. “If it means finding Chuck and dragging him away from whatever beach he’s sipping margaritas on, we’ll do it.”

“Of course.” Cas just stares down at the cover of the book he was reading – _On the Genesis of Angels_. “You should rest,” he says, not looking up. “You’ve had a long week.”

“So have you.” But Cas sleeps when he wants to, not when he needs to (and sometimes he does need to, no matter how often he insists that angels don’t sleep, Dean).

“Yes.” He keeps staring down, and then: “I don’t want to be the last of my kind, Dean.”

His throat thickens, but he forces out, “I know. It won’t come to that, Cas.”

Cas doesn’t say anything – because of course he knows Dean’s making a promise he can’t keep – and so Dean just stands there, hand on Cas’s shoulder, as if that could make any of this better.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "The Last Unicorn." follow me on tumbleaur @ [lies-unfurl](http://lies-unfurl.tumblr.com). comments extremely appreciated in this trying time [finals season]


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